


We Find Ourselves

by archetypes



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Cigarettes, F/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Post-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypes/pseuds/archetypes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max can't shake the feeling that she belongs somewhere else and with someone that understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Find Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any and all mistakes, I'm not really one for looking over my work once finished, so sorry if some of the typos or auto corrects are annoying or ridiculous !

There comes a time when Max stops feeling hopeful, where her home town of Arcadia Bay feels more like a wire cage, trapping her inside and throwing a cloth over her at night to keep her from moving on, looking ahead.

Blackwell's bloody grounds long past her (she pretends that she's lost count of the years but it's been five), but Chloe was forever stuck there, the memory of her death blinding Max with a searing pain in her brain.

She tries going back to live in Seattle with her parents for a while, but she has nightmares. Nightmares of the storm destroying Arcadia Bay, of her and Chloe being crushed by a looming Lighthouse. She always woke up in a cold sweat. Shoulders shaking and skin clammy, her thin sheets sticking to her.

She tells her parents that she can't stay after a couple months (three long, agonizing, months). Her mind and heart stuck in two different places but one hurts much more than the other- still. They fuss over her when she leaves, _'you're never too old to live with us honey. We know what you've been through'_. Max hates how they lie through their teeth.

She doesn't tell them that their sad smiles and suffocating nature is what pushed her out the door. She only tells them that Chloe is guiding her away, that Chloe knows what's best. She imagines the blue-haired punk dragging her off on a long road trip, probably in Frank's stolen RV.

She hasn't spoken to people like Frank since the other timeline though, the one where Chloe lived all the way up until the storm. Frank doesn't even know her in this life of hers. 

There comes a time when Max can't stop thinking about traveling and giving up on photography. The time where she thinks all hope is lost, her own Blue Period. She doesn't even take selfies anymore in this time space, her face haunts her with the nightmare version of her who was harsh and told her how shitty of a person she was. 

She takes the car that she bought about a year and a half ago, her money saved up since she didn't have to pay for Blackwell, and drives off. It's battered and cracked but it's better than home. Its better than the place that haunts her to the core.

She knew she couldn't travel far so she coasted through Washington cities mostly, far from Seattle and certainly far from Arcadia. She had many refreshing experiences along the coast, camping out with a nice couple she met in a diner, they had rolled joints and Max indulged herself in crappy beer from a gas station down the road.

She could hear Chloe in her head, laughing at her slight scratchy throat and coughing up some of the beer. It burned and it most of all made Max just feel something, it was unpleasantly comfortable, an excited flutter in her stomach traveling upbeat to her chest.

She took pictures of the skyline and parked up in cliffs. The breaking sky leaking a pinkish tint and captivated her interest in the open world again. Sleeping through the sound of owls and crickets perched near her worn beauty of a car. It was the first night she dreamt of a good past time in her life instead of the dead.

Pictures of Kate and Warren cross her mind. Her first friends from the worst year of her life. She sees them all laughing and taking selfies and even Victoria makes an appearance. Her pixie cut shining in the lights of the Vortex party, almost like Max was relieving things she had definitely seen, but not _technically_.

Max thinks of Nathan the most ever since that day, even more than Chloe. She doesn't know why her subconscious thinks of him often. Maybe it was the guilt of screwing him out if the life she saw him live just to take it away because of an accident. Yes, he was shitty for bringing that gun and threatening Chloe in return, but she saw the way he freaked when he accidentally pulled the trigger. A steady flow of no's and nervous movements and muttering clearly proving such. Even though she hated what he did and how he acted most of the time, but she couldn't hate him. She knew she needed closure, and to give him some in return. She sees him in colors, the seething red of his jacket and the sharp blue of his eyes staring back at her from the sky. 

The swaying grass reminds her of his hair, shaking with his movements. Her own clenched fists, tearing up shitty photos or pounding on things from frustration, remind her of the way he held the gun, the way he grasps at nothing when he thought about hitting someone in that parking lot (which he did hit Warren, in the other timeline).

She wakes up, neck strained and bedhead covering her eyes, and just knows she has to see him. She's never ignored her dreams before, and she wasn't going to start now. Not when they usually meant something.

She contacts Victoria over the phone, the two had exchanged numbers before Max had left Oregon and she was hoping it didn't change. She didn't even know where Nathan was. Was he still at St. Tremaine's, rotting in a padded room and taking more medication than food?

Or was he released, back lapping up the riches of his father and getting worse than he was to begin with? Was he already taking over Arcadia, following the heavy footsteps he was destined to?

She uses almost the rest of her saved up money to drive back up the Arcadia Bay, the roads dusty and familiar, like a childhood tune replaying her mind at bedtime, her mother rocking her to sleep. She cringes at the entrance of the place, eyes straining to stay forward instead of looking out into the open water- wanting to check for another disaster looming.

She had no intention of seeing anyone else her she didn't have to. It didn't matter that Kate had still messaged her on Skype sometimes, only stopping half a year ago when Max left home and wifi behind. It didn't matter that Warren had liked to still post on her Facebook wall even though his girlfriend had blocked Max on the stupid social media site. She didn't want to see the ghosts of Max's past. Not all of them anyway.

She and Victoria meet for coffee on the outskirts of town. Max swore she would only go back to see how it plays out with Nathan and this was a step towards that. So she allowed herself to face this at least, Victoria was harmless, bitchy, but nothing evil.

The blonde looked rougher with age (only those five years). Not broken or sad like she had been the night they took Nathan- the whole year she had looked defeated, actually. She was more defined, cheeks sharp and lips bleeding red.

Max ordered a plain black cup of coffee, letting the glass cup scold her hand, and Victoria a latte. They we're silent for a while, not awkward but content. The air around them swirling with unknown. Max wanted to run again, run so fast that her lungs would sting from exhaustion. The past seemed to be catching up with her more and more everyday. Weighing her down like an anchor tied to her neck, choking her.

"I know I'm not here for just a coffee date, Max. And if I am I'm seriously disappointed." Tone as sharp as her jaw.

Max swallowed the scolding liquid in her mouth, hoping it'll burn her open. "I just wanted to ask you a question actually, for closure- mostly."

Victoria didn't seemed shocked. Instead she just crossed her bare legs, her dark skirt rubbing over her skin with an inaudible scrape. "Well, go on then."

She didn't know where to start, or if Victoria had even still spoke to Nathan. Even though they had seemed close, Max couldn't pretend to know the half of it, the half of them. For all Max knew they could've been together though as well, loving on another despite the shit happening around them. Still each other's safety nets.

"How is Nathan...where is he?" She asked gently, watching the blondes face very carefully, inspecting it for any and all emotions.

She had learned it from her parents. They had been tiptoeing around her for so long now that she had inherited to do the same, always the empathetic. Always the hero.

Her sculpted eyebrows raised slightly, and her hand paused from picking up her latte. This was a shocked Victoria if Max had ever seen one, Max almost wanted to rewind, to just say fuck it and leave, as if she had never called her, or at least as if she blew Victoria off.

"You want to know how _Nathan Prescott_ is doing? He killed your friend." Max cringed as she stated the very obvious. 

But she still nodded in confirmation, mousy brown hair that had once been barely above her shoulders, now gliding down them, not by much but long enough that when her head moved it reminded her she should get it cut.

"Is he in Arcadia still?" She asked once more, shrinking down a bit at the others gaze. It felt like a boulder was pressing down on her chest plate.

Victoria shook her head, reluctantly as if she didn't want to tell her. "No. He left a year ago. He had a lot of... family troubles after leaving the hospital. He wanted to take me with him, but I had to take care of the Chase Space, ...I still feel like shit." 

Max wanted to say she didn't ask about all that, that it was none of her business and she didn't care but she didn't. Just sipped at her coffee. She was happy a little on the inside, knowing that Nathan had left Arcadia Bay, that he gets a do-over too.

"Where is he?" She wasn't beating around bushes anymore. She was still a new person, even around Victoria Chase. This wasn't high school anymore, there was no reason to be afraid of her.

Their gazes finally collided and it looked like she was almost not going to get anything out her, as if Nathan had wanted no one to know where he would be, which would be smart of him.

"Fort Lauderdale. Florida. He's from there actually, his family owns a lot of land down there too." A smug look on Victoria's face made Max think that she wanted the location to deter her from seeing him. She didn't know that Max had nothing to lose.

Max bit at her bottom lip, ripping loose skin from the rest and yanking it away, tearing at nothing. She would need a lot of gas money, and probably money for motel rooms and food. And this was probably a shitty idea, just showing up at his home five years later, as if she didn't fuck everything up. Not like he knew she had, but she would.

The coffee shop was cold and drafty every time a patron came through the doors, humid afternoon wind smacking Max in the face, almost like it was trying to get her to stop daydreaming. To wake up.

"Whats his address?"

||

Florida was open and spacious. Along the sides of main roads were flowery medians and a ton of open fields for cows and groves swallowed the road up. Rearing Tampa was like driving through emptiness and it made Max tired. She was barely halfway through the fucking state, stopping off on empty motels on the roadsides. Seedy and vacant but it was still better than anything else in the past couple years. She finally felt like she was exploring now that she was in a new state, uncharted territory to Max Caulfield.

Fort Lauderdale was much different than the empty, open space of the northern parts of the sunshine state. And she knew why that had called it that, why is was such a tourist trap. It was always sunny- when it wasn't raining of course. Then again, she knew Florida was susceptible to weather just as anywhere else, to be fair.

Fort Lauderdale was populated and full of much more exciting things- Max felt like this was two sides of the same coin. Empty, vastness to explore alone, and crowded joy to venture off in. The city seemed a lot like the Nathan she had known years ago. The Nathan that she saw in pictures with Victoria, tongue out and hand rocking out. The Nathan that stood posing in the front of the Vortex Club party pics in what looked like a club.

She didn't know who this Nathan would be, she didn't know how he would react and she didn't know what she would say, in fact Max hadn't planned anything at all. She did expect to stay at a motel somewhere in town, stay for a few days and catch-up if he would let her, if he could handle it, and if she could.

The home itself is huge. Something that looked like it could swallow up the rest of the world, it was certainly something that a Prescott would own. She imagined that after leaving his family Nathan would rather stay somewhere smaller, something that wouldn't leave him empty and lonely. That's what Max had done- she let her tiny car pull her along and coddle her up instead of letting the open world swallow her up.

Even though the style wasn't her favorite it certainly had it's own brand of flare, it seemed like you could throw four parties at once inside if inclined. If she knocked on the door would he even be able to hear her? 

The roofing is a shade somewhere along the lines of rust or brick for pure aesthetic purposes, matching the few houses on the same street as it, the walls a pale, washed out eggshell tint. There are palm trees galore littering the lawn, it was tacky and common but made sense in the landscape, she supposed it fit in here more than anywhere else at least.

She approaches the monstrous front, double doors slowly and cautiously, like they'll eat her. She still had no clue what she'll say to him. She couldn't possibly lie and say she stumbled upon the place, stumbled would be back in Oregon, this was many states away from that hell pit. 

She raises her hand to knock, rapping on the pure wooden substance firmly. She could almost hear the sound echo through the home from the outside. She wondered what it would look like, what would actually be inside. She couldn't even think of how to fill this whole thing.

She feels a jolt of something as the wide, right door opens moments later, which only intensifies when she gets a good look at the man standing before her.

Nathan had the same stance, hunched over more than slightly, the curve of his body used to make her cringe in fer of herself looking like that but now only brought back a sense of uneasy joy. Almost like it shouldn't be so good to see it.

His hair was still a dirty blonde, several strands still falling limp over his forehead while the rest of it pulled back, neat and strained. His shoulders still broad and his legs still long, he seemed to have gained a good amount of muscle mass- a healthy weight that made Max sigh easily. The only thing noticeably different was his face. It was carved out and much more defined as Victoria's had been. 

His eyes were clouded in confusion, and shock, like he wanted to demand what she was doing here but also couldn't speak out loud- and Max knew the feeling very well. His fingers gripped the door hard and stressed, his knuckles white and fingertips red. She felt like she was in Blackwell again.

"Nathan," She murmurs, a mixture of a half-assed greeting and a shocked confirmation. Of course it was Nathan at his own house.

He gnaws on his bottom lip, swallowing an audible lump in his throat. "Get in."

He moves aside, and maybe it's not the exact invitation she had expected but it's much better than it could've been with him, so Max takes it for what it is and steps inside, closing the door behind herself.

The home was spacious, just as she had thought, a large stairwell near the entrance and what looks to be many open rooms on the ground floor- most likely leading to the kitchen and some living rooms. She looked up, and all around, the ceiling so far up that if it fell it would most definitely cave in on her or crush her to bits. That wouldn't likely be the case but it's a thought.

He took long strides in front her for a few seconds before stopping promptly, turning around to look at her, or look her over more likely. She had done it observe him so it was only fair. She wonders briefly what has changed about her. Her hair and height, obviously, but did her new demeanor seem to shape her face differently like it had done to Victoria and seemingly Nathan? Was that a good thing?

He shook his head roughly, like he was chasing something away before leading her back over to an open foyer, a few expensive leather chairs and a large television hanging up on the far wall catching her attention. He had taken a seat across from one of the chairs nearest to her so she took the initiative to sit down there, crossing her legs and sitting up, a complete opposite to Nathan who had his legs spread out slightly, hands in his lap and leaning forward- hunching. 

The house was quiet, but comfortably so for the moment. He was only looking at her, wringing his hands and scraping at his fingernails- he was clearly nervous, as if Max was about to scold him and tell him all the reasons why he was a shitty, awful person. But, that wasn't anywhere on her to-do list. She came here for the exact opposite.

"I got your address from Victoria." She admits in the dead silence. It definitely wasn't what she expected herself to say, in fact she was kind of nervous that Nathan was going to blow up on her, tell her to shut the fuck up and never speak Victoria's name again. She got none of that, of course.

He nodded slowly, almost like he expected it. His silence urges her to continue, for an odd reason. Maybe it was because he didn't shut her up, or maybe because she hadn't ever gotten the opportunity to hold an actual, nice conversation with Nathan. Something without malice and hatred lacing their choice words.

"I didn't know what I was looking for for a while. I kind of wandered all around Washington, and even Oregon still... unfortunately. I kept thinking, I don't know. That I was missing something, that I _needed_ something." She spoke, letting the words pass through her lips like a breathy release. She realized that what she was saying made it sound like she was looking for Nathan this whole time but, maybe she was. She didn't know yet.

He seemed to think just that, eyes quizzical and head tilted like a confused animal. "And, so you looked for me?"

She nodded, fast and firm. "I wanted to see you, for some reason. I felt like, I don't know, that maybe you could help me."

He seemed to change attitude almost immediately, eyes narrowing at her, nothing menacing or glare-y. It was like he was reading her, "What do you want then, a fucking apology? Was my courtroom breakdown of that not enough for you. I sent you-"

"A letter. I know, I got it, but... I never opened it I don't think. I made my mom hold onto it actually. I was a little... distressed at the time." She responded, cutting him off before he could rampage. She knew he got help and seemed much calmer now, his aura cleaned out and shining, but old habits die hard. 

The courtroom was another thing, something she didn't want to remember ever again, something she didn't want to be reminded of. That was the first time she cried for Nathan instead of Chloe. The words of his own father not far from her saying, _'everyone knows there's something wrong with my disappointment of a son'_ had almost set her off. She knew better than that though, she knew better than to make a scene at Chloe's trial next to Joyce and David.

"I don't need an apology again, Nathan." She added on, wanting to clarify that over everything else. She wasn't here to guilt trip him, she wasn't here to watch him suffer and to bring him more pain than she was she he had already felt over the whole thing. She wanted to help the both of them, not ruin him and all his hard work so far. He was clearly better than before already on the account that he didn't call her a dyke and slam the door in her face.

He seemed to stare past her for a second, readjusting his sitting position just a tad, the leather squelching underneath his weight. "Anything else you want to get off your chest while you're baring your soul and all that?" He asked her, casually, as if nothing she had said to him mattered, but his body language said different. He hung onto ever word with each breath and his hands shook in anticipation of her words, like he was scared, some kind of nervous. It was infectious.

Max feels herself spill her guts to him, telling him about how she left her parents because of their suffocating nature, she told him that they still kept up all of her things she had up from seven, eight years ago, before she even came back to Oregon, before she went to Blackwell. She tells him that she had bought this rustic, crappy car and met a bunch of people along the coast lines, tells him about her first time smoking weed and her first time drinking. She tells him about the nightmares, and the thought of Chloe in many of things she did, saying she wanted to live vicariously through her soul a lot of the time. She tells him of how much she had thought of him, even though it sounded strange and a bit creepy. But Max didn't mind.

And how things have changed because Nathan sits and listens; he doesn't glare at her or make crude remarks about her being a 'bitch' or that she should've just stayed away and minded her own business. Nor does he comment on anything, not even the dreams she's had of him. Instead he just leans farther back in his seat, scratching absentmindedly at his forearm with blunt looking nails. "Feel better?"

She takes a deep breath, her nose tickling with it and the scent of Nathan's home filling her, it smells a lot like his room did at Blackwell. And, surprisingly enough, she **did** feel better now that she spoke- gushed to him.

||

It's a Saturday night and Max has lost count of the amount of weeks that she's been staying with Nathan. She lost count on how many times she woke up in the room across from him and asked if he wanted her to make him breakfast. She lost count of how many times Max passed him a glass of water for him to wash down his medication with. The amount of times she locked the door after him and made sure he texted her before he got home so she could order food.

Living with Nathan felt like it was the most natural thing ever, like she was looking for him all along, like she was mean't to be here with him. So when he suggests they go out and _'have some fun'_ , Max sees no point in arguing, it's not like she has anything else to do, especially since Nathan was the only one she knew here, and if she was going to continue to bond with him, she'd eventually have to go through the party rite of passage.

They wind up at a local club, this city was full of lust and want and Max could smell it the moment they entered the place. It was humid an suffocating with all the people around the bar and crowding the dance floor, but in a good way.

The music make Max's veins pump harder and her heart beat louder. They end up downing a couple of drinks for the hell of it, Nathan's elbows rubbing against her own with each one, he felt like a constant weight at her side, letting her know she was still here.

The drinks left a taste in her mouth, it tasted like bitter cherries and something else that Max couldn't exactly identify, but Nathan seemed to enjoy it. Even though it left a tangy taste in her mouth after she smiled anyways, enjoying most of it. She had liked the way it made her head feel, but what effect did it have on Nathan's?

"Are you sure you're supposed to be drinking?" She asked him, voice a little strained over the music, just trying to get his attention. 

He looked back at her with a shrug, his skin lighting up with all the different colors of the lights pulsing around the club. It was captivating and it almost made Max forget she even asked him anything. "Not exactly, in fact absolutely fucking not!" He shouted back, and even though she wanted to argue, something about this seemed that this wasn't a regular occurrence. 

She wouldn't let it slide otherwise, and she knew Nathan wouldn't either, he most definitely knew better now than when he was a kid. She almost wants to order another drink, considering the tab was on him and he said that he could afford it- and she certainly wasn't denying that.

He gripped her hand, leading her out onto the dance floor before she could do anything else though, his hands were calloused and rough, as if he had scraped them down with a stone.

Nathan let Max turn around in front of him once they got out onto the floor, pulling her closer and snaking his arms around her waist, and she looped her arms around his neck in return. They move together and it more sensual than Max could've ever expected- the feeling of Nathan's hands on her like this, the proximity, the way their bodies brush against each other and linger, it's suffocating and freeing all at once. Nathan smelled like expensive cologne and some kind of fruit shampoo, he was delicate and edgy.

She could feel most of him pressed up against her, his body heat raising her own with every sway of her hips. Nathan let his wandering fingers end up running underneath the hem of Max's shirt, sending goosebumps all down her spine. 

She had never thought about this before, dancing and partying with Nathan. Sure ever since she had been in that reality where she was a Vortex Club member she thought of partying with them once or twice, but not just Nathan. Not like this. She was feeling bold and alive.

She glanced up at him, at the face she recently had gotten used to seeing around her, a very pleasant face. He was already looking down at her, he was still a foot or so taller than her, she wasn't the only one that had kept growing. His eyes were dark from the lighting in the room, but she could see the faintest smirk on his lips.

"Still thirsty?" He asked her calmly, and almost a little smugly. Only then did Max realize she was staring his mouth down, eyes shining and a little wide. She has a hot feeling well up in her belly, almost making her forget how to breathe.

She definitely is still thirsty, but what for is the real question.

He slides his hand up her side as she doesn't answer, slowing down his movements that weren't fast to begin with, but simple dancing was starting to kill Max. He crooks his finger, head tilted and eyes hooded, "If you want something you're gonna have to come get it."

She has never thought about having sex with Nathan, or at least not until about a month ago. She didn't think it would be rough or hard, or soft and passionate, nope Max _definitely_ hasn't thought about it before (she's a liar).

So she kisses him. She licks the reminants of liquor off of his soft lips, and soon his tongue slips past her own pliant ones, letting him swallow up her gasp. Max doesn't know where else to put them so she grasps his hair, twining her fingers in the soft strands.

As his tongue caresses her own, she notes that he tastes good, like the drinks they had and something else, vaugley like his toothpaste and something uniquely Nathan. Max wonders what she tastes like to him, if she's sweet or tangy, if he likes it or not.

But she doesn't think about it too long, too focused on the way he pulls back slightly, nipping at her bottom lip and tugging it into his mouth, and then she's being directed towards the mens room, no pulling back or hesitation, she wanted whatever was going to happen, she wanted to keep living, and he seemed to be her outlet for that lately.

They dont even bother with going into a stall, but Max was happy there wasn't an audience, she wouldn't be comfortable if there was. She finds very quickly though that it's exceptionally hard to think with Nathan's hand up her dress and down her panties.

His long fingers expertly rubbing her clit, and mouth attached to her pulse point on her neck. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn't like Max didn't, but it certainly made her feel confident in his actions.

He sucks and bites down enough to know that he'll leave a mark there, it makes her tremble in anticipation, legs shaky slightly and hands gripping his firm shoulders.

It's hot and it's dirty and it's quick, she comes once she feels his dick through his pants pressed against her thigh and he rugs her hair back, slipping a finger inside of her. She comes with his name on her lips and isn't ashamed of the fact.

Nathan is pressed against her thigh, both of his legs around hers. He starts grinding and she can feel how hard he his, the warmth from his cock radiating onto her, making her flush. So she helps him, moving her leg up and grasping at him, letting him work himself.

He lets out little breathy pants, head thrown back and pupils wide. Its one of the hottest things she's ever seen, especially on him. The moaning and panting coming from him is enough to get Max hot again, and soon he falls still save for the little post orgasm twitches.

Eventually he lifts his head and catches her mouth on his once more, his lips raw from biting them, or maybe because she bit them. She can't recall. 

"You're gonna be in my bed tonight, Max." He speaks, still hot and breathy like he was struggling to breathe. Those words were full of promise and excitement. It only made her wetter.

||

She knew that it was risky and maybe even foolish of her to think, to let herself stay, but she was finally happy again. For the first time in years she wasn't thinking about death everyday, about rewinding time to fix something she's screwed up.

She wakes up next to him every morning more often then not, the days he gets up early to take the early classes on his schedule she's cold, and lonely. Her heart only warming at a good morning text he sends her before his professor arrives.

She falls asleep next to him every night, the heat from him and his large bed snuggling up to her and wrapping her up in security. Nathan loved to spoon, and to play his whale songs at night so often that even Max doesn't think she can sleep without them anymore.

One morning is different than the others. It's his off day and he's in the kitchen, sitting on his phone by the counter and resting his him in his free hand. Max had gotten a text from Joyce, loving and kind as always, as if she was her own mother.

There was a memorial being built in Chloe's _memory_. She wants Max to come and speak, she wants her to just be there if anything. Joyce pulled the, 'It's what Chloe would've wanted' card, and Max couldn't say no.

"I have to go to a memorial." She says, walking past him to grab a cup of coffee, like it was a spur of the moment thing. He looks up at her, eyes blank like he knew where and for who the memorial would be.

His steely blue eyes aren't full of questions and he doesn't look curious, even though she had though he would be. She goes to clarify anyways, "Chloe's mom just texted me. She says she wants me there, and even wants me to speak, or something. I don't even know what I'd say..."

He finally turns all of his attention on her, letting his phone settle on the counter. "You don't have have to go," he points out. "You don't owe them anything."

She sighs, sipping her cup for a second. "I know, but I want to. Chloe deserves her best friend to be there." Maybe she felt guilty or maybe she felt obligated, and maybe Nathan saw that in her too, but she'll still go, if only for Chloe.

And then he's sighing, looking down at the ground like he's torn, like he doesn't know what to do or say, or maybe both. She's not going to ask him to come if he's uncomfortable, if he thinks he's not welcomed or if he'll be shunned she won't tell him otherwise, because she doesn't know how everyone will react either.

Last she heard, right after Nathan was put in the hospital, Joyce had called him a prick, a scumbag, the devil. David had said he needed to rot in jail, and that the justice system failed his step-daughter. Max hadn't said anything to them- she knew that it was an accident, no matter how fucked up, but wouldn't dare try to tell a mourning family anything. She only nodded in agreement or eyed the ground.

The point is, she wants him there, but she won't force his hand. She'd never do that to him.

"I'll pay for you to get there _and_ back." He spoke, voice trembling, almost like he didn't expect her to come back. "I'd fucking go but-"

She stepped forward as he got himself off with a frustrated sigh, his hand rubbing over his face, trying to wash away all of his issues, like he was being suffocated by them. She reached up, tenderly holding his wrist and pulling his hand back from his face, she wanted to kiss him all over, tell him it was okay.

"You can come, Nathan. Chloe knew the truth, I think. She'd want you to be there, even if that sounds like bullshit." She reasons gently, watching his face screw up in a scoff and mock-laugh. She was sure it sounded like bullshit to him then.

"It does sound like bullshit." He agrees, "Do you want me to go?" He asks like the answer to this question would determine his next actions, Max knew she couldn't answer that.

"Do you want to go?" She parrots, eyes searching his for anything and everything.

He's quiet for a moment, tilting his head and watching her carefully, his free hand gripping hers, grip shaky and loose. "I want to be with you."

It was all she needed to hear, it was his way of saying he'd go, his way of saying he would be there for her. This was Nathan Prescott saying that she meant something to him in a life where the two of them had rarely found something to care about for a long, long time.

||

Max wasn't the type of kid who thought planes were cool nor was she afraid to go on one growing up. So when Nathan got them first class seats it was strange for her to feel giddy, especially since she didn't really like the destination.

The cabin was wide and the seats felt like the material on their bed at home, soft and pliant enough to swallow you up. Sure Nathan was still slouching the whole time but at least it was abck instead of forward.

"You need a chiropractor." She teased, pinching his arm, the fabric of his black hoodie taking most of the damage. 

He rolled his eyes, completely playful, "Shut up. It's not that bad." He grumbled, head tilted in her direction, either purposefully or subconsciously straightening up a bit. The sight just eased the fabricated pain in her own back.

"Whatever you say, sweetie." She teased, letting him scoop her hand up in his much larger one, it was warm despite the coolness of the plane.

"You should sleep." He suggested, "We got a fucking while." He was right and even though she'd rather stay up a little bit longer, she nodded in agreement. 

Besides, the longer she was awake the more she had to think of what she was going to say to Joyce, to David and a good portion of Arcadia Bay. And to Chloe most of all.

Upon arriving in the crystal clear daybreak to Arcadia, Max could only breathe right with Nathan's hand in hers, laughing when the second they got off the plane he offhandedly commented, "I need a fucking smoke."

He was stressed and strained, and just the thought of Nathan's family being around was bothering Max. She didn't want them around him, didn't want one word to be exchanged between those assholes and her angel.

Anything that would upset him would upset Max, no matter the past she and Nathan were together now, finally a whole person after being ripped apart by the universe for so long. Max foolishly and whole heartedly believed they were soulmates, even though Nathan was sure to laugh at that.

But she knew that she meant something to him. She knew in the way he stroked her hair while he was trying to fall asleep, whispering things like she was his and he adored her.

She knew in the way he looked her in the eyes when she spoke, full attention on her even when he was annoyed or frustrated, even when they had been arguing all day long.

She knew in the way that he stood near her at the memorial, hands clasped in front of him or fiddling with his button down, noting every word she spoke with a nod of his head.

Telling everyone around them, around Chloe's grave- flowers lining the site, that Chloe was joy and hope and all of the cliche bullshit that she would scoff at, had she been here to hear it, felt like a lie.

She felt like Joyce should not have been smiling happily with stray tears streaming down her sunkissed cheeks. She feels like David shouldn't be silent, watching Nathan with a hatred burning deep. She wants his to scream, to fight, she wants a reason to escape again.

She choked up halfway through, not because of sadness but she let everyone else chalk it up to that, she's gotten good at letting people assume things about her.

The rest of the memorial was mostly dedicated to soft spoken words from acquaintances who barely knew Chloe. The whole thing was shit.

Afterwards was quiet and still, David and Joyce coming up to her and Nathan before they could slip away. Nathan was silent, eyes on Max and actively avoiding them, so she reached her hand up, caressing his cheek gently. Letting him know she's here for him.

"Thank you so much Max for coming. I know it must've been tirin' flying all the way up here. Are you stayin' for a while?" Joyce was tight lipped and curious.

Max knew she was just being polite, hand gripping David's like she was keeping him from strangling Nathan. "No, we want to head back today, we didn't actually make plans to stay with anyone and we already bought the tickets back." 

Nathan's jaw clenched under her fingertips, and David pulled from Joyce at the same time, stomping off in the other direction, Max coildve swore he was tearing up.

"Sorry he's just," She began, trying to think if an excuse for him. "It's a rough day, especially since.." She looked straight at Nathan, eyes neither kind nor understanding.

Max and Nathan left soon after, scooting away from the whole scene literally, irritation in his eyes and a frown on his lips. 

People were taking pictures of him as they got back on the plane, and he didn't say a word. He didn't blow up, or tell Max what he was thinking, but she knew why they were photographing him. That much was obvious.

She couldn't wait to get out of this hick town.

||

The moment they returned to their home, Max felt the weight of the world wearing her down, and she practically had to drag herself to the bed, her eyes droopy and hooded.

Nathan plopped down beside her, fingers curling themselves in her thin hair and legs intertwined with hers, comfortable and familiar.

She turned to him, placing a soft kiss on his jaw, and smirking as he turned his head towards her mouth, capturing her lips with his. He was soft and tired, sighing as she pulled back like he was missing her already.

"I forgave you, you know." She whispered, eyes soft and voice even. Today only reminded her that she's never let him know that she did.

There's a long silence between them, he looks somewhere behind her, eyes blank. He doesn't ask for explanation and doesn't argue. "Okay." He says, finally. "Thank you."

It wasn't a grand gesture or confession of love but it might as well been. They weren't perfect and neither was their connection, but it didn't matter. They had each other and that was all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> wasn't the best but I hope it wasnt the worst .


End file.
